


realignment

by lazulum



Series: persona 5; alternate future [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-04-28 18:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulum/pseuds/lazulum
Summary: After managing to survive through university until summer vacation, Yusuke wakes up to a surprise.





	realignment

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most predictable thing i've ever done. i saw and nyoomed straight for the serious, straightforward, but kind of clueless 'genius' character. and there's also a ship. inevitably, this fic would happen. anyways, i /can/ say that ive got at least one more imminent thing planned for this series. it'll be a bit more separated from futaba and these fools, however. 
> 
> enjoy~

On this morning, as if summoned, it rains. Though the rainy season is long since gone, the current date seeping into summer vacation territory, it seems like the forecast is warning for a system that’ll last for a few days. When Yusuke finally wakes up just shy of noon, he’s almost unsurprised.

Morgana is curled up near Yusuke’s feet, on the cool of the tatami floor rather than the futon. He only barely acknowledges the sleeping furball before stretching a hand out beside him, only to feel more blanket. Another unsurprising thing. After so long of sacrificing sleep for school, getting a full night’s rest proved difficult, and he could easily sense when Akira had gotten up earlier.

While he’s certainly involved in a wider variety of obligations compared to Yusuke, the constraint of personal activities and part-time jobs isn’t as much in the face of his university schedule; the latest of which involved a harrowing mixed media project that tested not only his artistic limits, but caffeine limits as well. It goes without mentioning the more typical exams of his other classes, a separate but equally draining process.

Aside from when they slept at night, he’d been dragged out of the normalcy of their life- and sometimes not even then, as Yusuke either poured over his studies, painting in their spare bedroom-turned-art room, or stayed at campus overnight on more than one occasion.

Only with Akira and Futaba’s meddling did he bother with food most of the time, as they pestered him even if he’d been gone to campus since early morning. Though, it was most likely _because_ of that. He can’t say he was opposed to Futaba leaving the apartment to meet him, sent on a chore to hand over dinner that Akira had made (or ordered for takeout). It gave both of them a sometimes necessary break from their respective routines.

Staring at the ceiling, Yusuke breathes, closing his eyes again to try and calm the thrumming of his heart.

It’s no use continuing to stress out over the project he’d already submitted days before. That submission marked the start of his well-earned vacation, but as an artist, the concept of a ‘vacation’ never actually realizes its full potential.

For now, at least, he allows himself another few moments before pushing out of bed, with the vague hope that Akira’s at home somewhere. When he checks his phone charging on the floor nearby, it has no messages indicating otherwise.

Yusuke hears movement in the kitchen, and the sizzle of food cooking even before he steps out of the room. The next step he takes feels a lot less heavy.

While it could be Futaba, her cooking expeditions are mainly limited to the microwave. The only exception to that is the Sakura family’s signature curry, but it doesn’t smell like curry; more along the lines of cinnamon.

Akira catches him standing in the doorway, like he’s in a trance at the smell of breakfast- brunch? He may as well be.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Akira teases, an easy smile on his face. He doesn’t wait for a response, turning back to head for the stove.

Yusuke follows, and finds a relatively extravagant affair.

On the counter to Akira’s right is a bowl of murky, yellowish liquid, with an obvious packet of cinnamon behind it, as well as icing sugar and a bottle of syrup. Most importantly, though, are the two bowls of blueberries and cut strawberries, a bit of a rarity on their meager budget.

“I got those from the market,” Akira explains, his trained hand using the spatula and shaking the pan in a way that masterfully flips the toast onto its other side. Yusuke is still a bit too dazed to form his thoughts into words, that would mostly be summarized as, “Yes, where else would you have gotten them from?”

It seems to be one of his favourite places to work these days. Yusuke can't blame him when he gets a discount on groceries out of it, and all the old ladies seem to love him, too, from what Yusuke hears. Akira’s early awakening had probably been to work a short shift there. The fact that he’s wearing jeans, not just sweatpants, supports his hypothesis.

“You okay? Still half asleep?” Akira asks, flipping what seems to be the last piece of toast onto a stack of several more, before turning off the burner.

“Most likely,” Yusuke answers, automatically, truthfully.

“I’ve got a new smoothie flavour,” Akira barely misses a beat as he takes off his apron. If that subtle threat was meant to wake him more, well, it worked.

“Is Futaba not here?” He unsubtly redirects, glancing over to her usual spot on the couch, empty of her and the fast quip she’d aim at whatever concoction Akira had blended now.

“Mm, Makoto showed up earlier and they went out. A girl’s day or something? I guess,” he shrugs. Yusuke walks further into the kitchen, past Akira to count the tower of french toast, a final total of 6. Akira looks entirely too pleased with himself as he gathers the fruit bowls, and starts to set up the living room coffee table. It’s their makeshift dining area, and Yusuke follows, gathering up his mind to grab two plates, and the french toast tower.

Everything is quickly laid out, with Akira also going through the effort of fixing Yusuke’s food up. He tosses a handful of strawberries and blueberries onto the toast, drizzling just enough syrup, and then tops it all with a sprinkle of icing sugar. His proud expression tones down softer as he props his head up with a closed hand against his cheek, geared towards Yusuke.

Yusuke pauses, hovering over the plate with fork and knife in hand.

“Is… there something on my face?”

Akira breaks out of his gaze, turning and laughing away from him.

“No, I’m just taking it in,” he admits, vague, but it’s obvious enough what he means. This isn’t the first or the last time he’ll say something so outright embarrassing.

Just as Yusuke is about to reply, the growl of his stomach cuts him off. With that, Akira leans back to stretch, his attention leaving Yusuke to start on breakfast.

The mysterious and unnamed ‘new flavour’ smoothie is off to the side in a jug, and Yusuke does his best to forget it’s there. Akira makes that difficult when he pours it into their respective glasses. It’s a foreboding deep purple, with specks of seeds or whatever else that hadn’t completely blended. At least the rest of their meal is good enough to completely disregard it. 

Their shared meal is truly the perfect way to start off his break.

Akira finishes his plate first, then tackles the smoothie, drinking all of it unscathed. After a silent moment, in an unexpected gesture, he reaches to brush his hands through Yusuke’s still messy hair slowly, fondly.

Yusuke coughs on the strawberry he just put in his mouth.

“Ah, sorry, I wasn’t trying to kill you. Promise,” Akira pulls back, voice apologetic even as he smiles.

“It’s- It’s fine,” Yusuke says, a hand to his chest as he clears his throat. “I think I’m not quite fully alert yet, despite my rest, and this lovely breakfast.”

“Understandable.” Akira’s resting his cheek against his hand again. This time there’s no keeping his gaze away with the distraction of food, or anything else.

“You seem awfully preoccupied,” Yusuke comments. Over time, it’s gotten easier to spot when Akira has… _ideas_. Sometimes he wishes he’d remained clueless, if only to stop his cheeks from burning, his heart running away on him at the occasional revelations.

“With you? Always.” Obviously, there’s no more point in feigning subtlety.

Leaning over, Yusuke places a sudden kiss on Akira’s nose, then places a hand along his jaw when he straightens up, repositioning for them to actually kiss, and Akira smiles into it.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs. He doesn’t have more opportunity to comment as Yusuke slides his hands further into the wavy mess of Akira’s hair, deepening the kiss.

Any semblance of thought towards their remaining food is gone as they end up leaning over onto the floor, Yusuke shifting after to bury his face in Akira’s shoulder. The pressure of Akira running his hands through Yusuke’s hair again is only slight, but comforting, almost rhythmic.

“Can I guess you’re finally awake now? Wish I knew the cursed princess was supposed to kiss the prince.”

“There are no princesses here,” Yusuke rebuffs, not turning his head an inch.

“Sorry, it was just a metaphor from that one fairy tale.” A sigh escapes him, but it’s fond. “You were really holding back, huh.”

Yusuke tries not to cave in and look at his face. Soaking up details from his other senses might be enough to sate him, but it’s offset by lesser annoyances. Namely, the tatami floor is hard on his side, and probably no better for Akira’s arm by now, but the thought doesn’t make him move any quicker.

What _would_ , though, unlocks the front door, and enters with the rustle of bags, a sigh of exertion, and then a subsequent squawk at the first sight she encounters in the living room.

“H-hey, didn’t we agree to keep certain things-”

“Relax, Futaba, we’re not doing anything. Just strictly PG,” Akira cuts in. From his position on the floor, half under Yusuke while their legs are somewhat tangled, he isn’t very convincing.

Futaba isn’t all that flustered, their antics frequent enough she’s almost immune. Still, boundaries. The look on her face suggests that she has more words of protest on her mind, but then she just huffs again, adjusting the bags she’s carrying to bring to her room.

“How was shopping with Makoto today?” That causes her to freeze. Yusuke tenses, too, the question seeming to cause more of a stir than expected. He really should’ve left this to a time that Yusuke isn’t curled up into him, feeling like he’s about to fall back asleep any moment.

“Sh-shopping? Yeah, we went… Shinjuku, it was fine, just. Nothing. It was normal. Crowds, but easy to handle.”

Before Akira can even attempt another word, she runs the rest of the way into her room.

When she slides the door shut, it’s not any louder than normal, but Akira still takes in a deep breath, before exhaling.

“I guess the crowds in Shinjuku are too high a level, now,” he comments.

“This isn’t an ideal position to be holding conversation with others,” Yusuke pipes up. He still doesn’t show any signs of moving.

“Don’t act like you aren’t involved.” Akira moves, propping an elbow under him to sit up.

“I would prefer… to not be…” Yusuke trails off, clutching tight around Akira’s neck to avoid falling off.

 

 ...

 

Half-consciousness is a dangerous state to be in, because when his eyes flutter back open a few moments later, Akira is carrying him back to their room. Or, at least, trying to. If he wasn’t already awake, he’d definitely be after Akira accidentally knocks his knee against the doorframe.

“Shit, sorry,” Akira mumbles under his breath. He also mutters something about “long ass legs.” Thankfully, there’s no further incident as he manages to maneuver into the room, and Yusuke lifts his head in time to catch Morgana’s figure as he stretches himself awake.

Akira kneels to set Yusuke down, who only stubbornly clings a little bit before releasing him. Free of the burden of his heavy boyfriend against his relatively weak strength, Akira drops himself onto the floor to sit, and Morgana turns towards them.

“Wha- When did he sneak past me?” He questions, mustering the most surprised expression he can on his feline face.

“Maybe in the hours you were in deep sleep? Pure coincidence.”

Now lying somewhat awake in bed, Yusuke thinks Akira could’ve saved himself the trouble if he'd just tossed him onto the couch in the beginning, though there isn’t much point bringing it up now, and he’s still grateful.

The further banter between Akira and Morgana fades into pleasant routine. Yusuke manages to sit up after closing his eyes a bit longer, only to slump against Akira.

With the flick of his tail, Morgana takes that as his cue to leave, citing an empty stomach.

“You still look exhausted,” Akira says, reaching to stroke some of Yusuke’s hair back. “Don’t force yourself to stay awake for me.”

Yusuke shifts away, quirking his head as he looks at Akira.

“You speak as if I wouldn't want to spend time with you for my own sake.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” he retorts, face reddening, and he hides behind his hand, the back of it against resting against his nose as he turns away. Yusuke reaches for him to pull his hand away, and he yields easily- too easily, in fact. It’s not ending there.

Akira looks at him, and when Yusuke goes to lean in, places a firm hand on his cheek. “Hey, you already fell asleep on me once-”

Pausing, Yusuke’s mostly neutral expression warms.

“Is it a bother if that’s what I wish to do?”

His words are accompanied by the closing of his eyes, and he leans into Akira’s hand.

“So sneaky.”

Yusuke smiles at having been caught. “What an accusation that is.”

“Well,” Akira starts, reaching his other hand out to cup Yusuke’s face, and he touches their foreheads together. “This means it’s time for you to sleep now, right?”

Akira’s glasses seem to have slid dangerously down his nose. Pulling back out of his hold, Yusuke takes them off, making sure to set them gently off to the side before Akira protests about it.

“I can do that myself, you know,” he pouts half-heartedly. He can’t get another word in as Yusuke pulls him down into the futon. It’s unavoidably hot, however, even with their old, clunky AC whirring in the background.

The situation is less than ideal, but by the time Akira’s kicked the blankets away for some reprieve, Yusuke’s already passed out on the pillow, hands curled into the fabric of his t-shirt. Careful not to jostle him, Akira slowly pries his hand away, then leans over to place a kiss on his head, stroking through his hair one last time before finally settling in.

This time, Yusuke doesn’t wake in the midst of his sleep, or even dream. Reality is enough, so long as he gets to open his eyes to Akira, unobstructed eyelashes and the smoothed lines of his face relaxed from the quiet, laid-back intensity he normally wears.

There’s no sight like it, even in his dreams, too elusive for his paints no matter how much time goes by. It’s just another complexity of life as he’s accepted it to be. He’d have it no other way.


End file.
